The Great Void
by aspentree11
Summary: When Merlin finally finds Arthur again, a lot of things have changed: Revolving doors, electric cars, and his entire way of thinking. After years of finding his friends again through reincarnations, Merlin must get Arthur to accept his way of living and hopefully face what is ahead in the next part of Arthur's story.
1. Chapter 1

He was itching. No, not itching, he corrected himself, _decaying_. A scratchy, uncontrollable, wicked shiver was running down his arm as he followed the boy in front of him, struggling to catch up. Sadly, his friend - well, _sort've_ \- was pacing fast in front of him, swiping through the local park's trail of trees urgently, not daring to glance back. Merlin, on the other hand, was strutting back, unsure if he should look at his arm more and get some help, or cover it up before his friend had time to ask questions. Because asking questions, especially about _this, _he was not ready for.

"Wait, could you just-"

"Don't try getting out of this, Merlin." But his eyes fell down to his forearm, which was flooding with green bumps. The itching was starting to burn. The boy in front of him flicked his head back at him impatiently.

"I'm serious," Merlin growled at him, "Just wait-" But when his friend swerved towards him sharply, Merlin pulled his sleeves down harshly and jerked backward.

"What are you doing?" Merlin growled.

"Let me see it!" His friend snapped. "Seriously, Merlin, this rash better be a big deal, because we are running late." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Do-Don't worry about it," Merlin said, clenching his teeth, "I'm fine. And it's not just a _rash. _It's..." But he wasn't fine. Actually, he wasn't fine at all. Every few years, to not stand out in the community he lived in, Merlin had to go to the Warlock of Harlem to get a long-term youth charm. Sure, he could probably do it himself, but he wasn't skilled like these _Americans. _They mastered in magic that most people in Europe haven't even started on yet, which was half the reason he came here only a few centuries ago. But now, since he had gotten his last youth charm a few months ago - he could swear that there was silver growing on his chin! - his skin had been getting worse and worse. He was lucky that his roommate hasn't noticed yet, or else he would have to explain to him why the heck he had green goose bumps on his skin. Honestly, he'd probably assume it was cancer.

"Then come on, would you?" His friend remarked, pacing quickly once again. Merlin pursed his lips as he staggered forward.

"I mean, seriously," his friend went on, "I understand that you're mad that you lost the bet but it's not that bad."

"Please," Merlin argued, "That was an entirely unfair bet!" When his friend turned his face again, he noticed a playful smile sprawled across his lips.

"Unfair?" His friend mimicked. "Actually, I thought it was plenty fair. I mean, you never asked the girl out."

"She had a boyfriend!"

"You never even talked to her."

"Did you see the guy behind her?"

"Could've been her brother."

"He was at least six foot!"

"And you are too." By the time his friend turned around again, they were out of the park entrance and facing a shabby, grey building. His eyes fell towards it, looking at the dirty stone exterior, the crooked door, and the eroded cement steps. The windows were dusty, a long vine was taking over half of the square building, and he could already smell the horrid stench from inside.

He exhaled.

"I don't even understand why you like volunteering here," Merlin exclaimed, waving his hand towards the welcome sign, "Gregory Fall's Mental Institution. Does that actually sound fun to you?" But when Merlin saw the look on his friend's face, he knew that he thought it was more than fun - it was exhilarating. His friend loved the sticky stench falling out the door, he loved the sound of madness, and he appreciated people who were a little off. His eyes seemed to lighten up as he grew closer to the door, his smile widening.

"I don't expect someone like you to understand, Merlin." His tone was playful, but when Merlin heard the words, he flinched back. A flashback hit him, harshly, remember him saying something similar hundreds of years ago. Something his friend has no recollection of, something that shouldn't have even bothered him. But it did.

"Whatever, Mordred," Merlin said, clearly exhausted as he dug his fingers into his sleeves in order to scratch the bumps, "Whatever." He shivered, the words mimicking in his head again. _Mordred. I was here with Mordred. _Something, though Mordred and him shared most of their lives together, it still shook him up. Sometimes he didn't even know how the friendship, after hundreds of years, could have even been repaired. But after he found out about reincarnation - or, in other words, a person's next life after they die - something changed in him. Something he couldn't ever explain.

Every couple generations he would run into somebody reincarnated - Guinevere as a jazz singer, Lancelot protesting against Vietnam - but somebody he had always seen, during every generation, was Mordred. He had hated him at first, despised him even. But something, he realized through the centuries, drew Mordred to him. He had spent many lifetimes hating him, trying to get him back for what he had done. Attempting to kill him, ruining his life, destroying him. He was blood thirsty for more than just murder. But for how long, he asked himself one day, would he let himself live in anger? Mordred (as far as he could tell) didn't remember his past lives, so why should he hold his sins against him, when Mordred doesn't even remember them? And once he accepted that, things started to foil down rapidly. Nine generations later, he was Mordred's best friend now - almost as close as he was to Arthur. It made him feel awful sometimes, but what if Mordred just went nuts? What if he was wrong about Mordred, and if he had minded his business as Mordred once told him, would Mordred have killed Arthur? It took many years for him to accept this, and move on, but he had. And once he did that, most of his grudge seemed to dissolve. But there was still sometimes, when life was still and he had nothing to distract him from his pain, when he would look at Mordred and hate him. Bitterly hate him. Which was why he insisted on being close to him - he would never live easily unless he saw the good in Mordred every single day.

And why Merlin would never die and let himself rest in peace? He never knew. But it wasn't until this life did he appreciate being alive.

"Anyways," Mordred murmured under his breath, as he opened the crooked wood door, "It's only for a few hours. And then you can go back to watching your soap operas." Merlin wrinkled his nose.

"It's not a soap opera," he growled, "It's-

"Hello, Ella," Mordred shouted and opened the door so that the dim light could pour on them, "How are you today, baby?" Merlin felt a crush in his chest when his eyes drew towards the front office. He wished he could say that Mordred was talking to the young lady at the front desk - thin, fair, with long auburn hair that glittered a soft caramel in the light - but he wasn't. Instead, Mordred was talking to the parrot, only a few inches away from her. Merlin noticed how her eyes drew to Mordred, and how they lightened like a lightning bolt in a thunderstorm.

_"Oh, don't you see why I like him?" The front desk lady told Merlin, only a few weeks ago. "Dark curly hair, broad shoulders, smooth skin. He's beautiful." _

But he never even said hello to her, he thought sadly. A girl was in love with his best friend, and his best friend didn't even notice. Merlin watched as her eyes seemed to fall when Mordred stepped past her, without saying hello, and went straight to the parrot. Merlin smiled apologetically at her, and she attempted to smile back but her lips faltered down.

"Whose rambling spats are we listening to today?" Merlin asked, stepping towards her.

"You're listening to their issues because it's thereuptic for them to speak to people they don't know so they can live in the outside world efficiently," she corrected, "And you actually have quite the list today. Peter Pince, Arabella Yancy, Morgan Mashfield, and-"

"Please tell me..." Mordred said suddenly, whipping his head towards her. She blushed.

"Ah, so you know about him already? Yes, he's here," she said, her cheeks redenning, "But Mordred you should-" But Mordred was already halfway down the hall, pacing fast. Merlin jolted towards him, and when he met up at him he looked back at the girl, whose eyes were in front of her again.

"Hey," Merlin hissed under his breath, cautious for her not to hear, "That girl was speaking to you. Did you notice at all?" Mordred's eyes looked at each thick, white door that they passed intensely.

"Shut up," Mordred wavered him off, "I'm looking for someone." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Mordred, you're always looking for someone," Merlin snapped, "You're always doing _something_. Have you ever thought maybe the reason you're so obsessed with crazy people is because-" Mordred clapped his fingers to Merlin's mouth.

"Maybe if you shut up," Mordred said as he smiled lightly, "I will show you something." His eyebrows furrowed down and caught Mordred's gaze.

And then suddenly he heard it - the crying screams coming from the end of the hall, at the very last door.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Mordred asked breathlessly. Merlin shot him a disgusting look.

"What are they doing? Torturing the man?" Merlin growled. "Those screams..."

"Are in horror," Mordred said breathlessly, "Steve called me and said there was a paranoid schizophrenic in here. A paranoid schizophrenic! How amazing is that! There are so few of them nowadays..." Merlin threw his hands up in the air.

"Why are you so addicted to these screwed up nut cases?" Merlin snarled. Mordred shook his head.

"Because we can fix him," Mordred said, stepping in place as if charged with excitement, "We have the chance to take someone totally screwed up and change him. How many chances do we have that in the world, huh, Merlin? Everybody is only half screwed up nowadays, but _him. _He is absolutely crazy!" Merlin opened his mouth, but then he closed it, scratching his green-goose-bumped arm, Mordred was already at the door. Merlin stepped in after him, about to clamp his ears so he could tune out the patient's unruly screams.

But when he saw him, Merlin stumbled back, gasping. In front of him stood three men: two large, male clinic nurses, and between them was a slightly-tall, broad statued guy. He was thinner, but he was lean. His jaw was slightly crooked, and the left side of his face was slightly sharper than his right. Messy, hay-stack like dirty blonde hair whipped over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. Merlin couldn't stop but stare at his split lip, the thin cut that took over his right cheek, the red yet overwhelming look in his eyes that made Merlin shudder.

"MERLIN!" The boy shouted in a throttling scream, yet to Merlin his voice seemed a million miles away.

"Merlin, where am I?" The boy gasped, his breathing heaving slightly. "Who are these idiots who dared to - Do you know who I am? I am the King of Camelot! And when I get out of here, I will-" But then his voice jolted, his eyes placed firmly on Mordred.

"You," the boy said, and he looked like he was going to puke, "You are...you are alive." The king stopped pulling and slumped back, unable to focus his eyes on anything specific, yet let his eyes daze around him.

"You know him?" Mordred said, anxiety striking in his eyes. "Merlin, who is this?" But when Merlin spoke next, it seemed as if a dream.

"Arthur," Merlin said, "my best friend."

I was going to include chapter one and chapter two in only the first chapter, but I didn't feel like writing that much and I wanted to see if anybody liked this so far. It isn't perfect, but it's a fan fiction so of course it isn't amazing. I just ask to review, or else I won't update it because I need to know someone wants more.


	2. Chapter 2

An eon later, Merlin still wouldn't be able to explain the true fear that ran through him at that moment. He had spent years imagining this moment - the words he would say, the smile he would spread. But now he only stared at the deranged boy in horror. His eyes scanned the once and forever king in front of him again, the boy who claimed to have known him. Now that Merlin looked at him harder, Merlin noticed how he almost seemed as if he had crawled out of a grave. His fingers were filled with dirt, there was dust on his face, and as his knees wobbled and his hands twitched Merlin could practically see how utterly exhausted this patient was. He wasn't staring at a lively king, Merlin thought to himself, he was staring at something far, far different.

"Best friend?" One of the male nurses repeated. "For Christ's sakes, Merlin! What the heck is going on? Why didn't you tell us someone you knew was in here? _Do you know how many people I had to call to see if this guy was a John Doe or not?_" Merlin's eyes ran towards Mordred, who was looking at him in horror. Merlin wiped his moist, sweaty hands on the sides of his jeans nervously, feeling the blood draining from his face.

"He's not his best friend, idiot!" Mordred snarled. "_I _am his best friend." But yet there was a hint of doubt as Mordred glanced back at him. Arthur blinked heavily.

"_You?" _Arthur said, before giving a cold laugh. "You are a vile, disgusti-" Merlin jumped towards Arthur, slapping his palm to Arthur's lips in order to stop him from speaking.

"Best friend," Merlin confirmed shakily, "He is my best friend. See, he's my...my brother." Arthur's eyes blazed in angry flames, but Merlin shot him a cautious look.

"Merlin," Mordred remarked flatly, "You don't even have a brother." Merlin nodded.

"Yes I do," he said, "Arthur. My - er - little brother. I just don't talk about him much because he's...he's sorta odd." He inched towards Arthur, swung his arm over his neck, and ignored Arthur's disapproved grunt. In response, Mordred crossed his arms tightly.

"Uhum," Mordred said, his eyes flickering impatiently, "So why hasn't his name ever come up in the last five years that I've known you?" The saliva in Merlin's mouth suddenly disappeared.

"Well, er," Merlin stumbled, "That's a story for another time, Mordred. Anywho, I need to get my sweet, little brother out. Where can I do that?" Mordred's arms dropped like bricks, and his fists curled into firm balls.

"You want to get him out of here?" Mordred's voice grew. "Are you kidding me! _He's a paranoid schizophrenic! _If you care about your brother at all-" Merlin walked towards him quickly.

"He can't be here," Merlin told him under his breath. Mordred's eyes flickered at the male nurses behind him, who must've been giving him insane expressions.

"And so what?" Mordred said coolly. "You thinking you can just release him into the wild?"

"No, of course not!"

"He'll need a caregiver, someone who'll give him his medicine and take him to therapy and-"  
"I'll do it," Merlin blurted. Mordred's eyebrows rose, a small glint circling in his eyes.

"Merlin," Mordred said, his anger vanishing and instead replaced with a serious tone, "Remember that one time you wanted to get a fish so I got you a fish and it was dead within two days because you forgot to feed it? You're a good guy, but you're not made for this." Merlin squinted at him, ignoring Arthur's grunts and curses from behind them.

"Yes, but that was because fish don't talk," Merlin informed him, "And trust me, Arthur _talks._"

Arthur didn't stop screaming until the apartment door slammed shut. He let Arthur follow him home, yelling at the top of his lungs, as Merlin strode silently back to the apartment, partially because he was trying to fade out his screams, but also because he had no idea how to reply. Mordred was stuck in the hospital finishing his volunteering, and for the first time Merlin wished he was doing the same exact thing.

Merlin stepped back cautiously as he flicked on the light. Arthur shuddered, his furiousness breaking, stumbling back like a pained dog. Merlin could only digest the scene - Arthur Pendragon was flailing his arms in his living room.

"And what is that?" Arthur demanded. "Is this your..._sorcery._" Merlin pursed his lips, his throat tightening.

"Are you ever going to answer me?"

"You're...you're alive," Merlin breathed instead. Arthur shook his head.

"Yes, I think I know that," Arthur snapped, "Merlin, where the _hell _are we?" Merlin exhaled deeply. He almost suggested for Arthur to sit down, but when he looked around he realized how terrifying sitting down truly was. A shifting recliner, a couch that was facing an on, yet muted, television, two chairs facing a microwave.

"It's been a while, Arthur," Merlin said carefully, "Like...more than you could ever fathom." Merlin wasn't surprised to see Arthur's back straighten, letting the pain show in his eyes but yet not let it affect him. Still, he looked shaky.

"You never answered my question, Merlin. Where am I?" Arthur's voice demanded. "What is this...kingdom? Where is the king's castle?"

"It's called a country," Merlin explained, a slight tone of humor ringing in his voice, "The United States of America. And we don't have kings or queens here. It's a democracy. There's a leader, of course, but the people decide." Arthur's head rose slightly.

"The people decide? _Everything_?" Arthur asked in awe. "That can't possibly work!" Merlin gave a weak smile, leaning against the counter.

"It actually isn't so bad! We have voting, the people choose," Merlin informed him, a light mocking tone, "The best country on the planet." Arthur almost smiled, but then something hit his eyes, as if he had remembered something dreadful, and he shook his head.

"How did you even get here?" Merlin finally asked, his hand scratching his forearm nervously, "I mean...you died in a total different country." Arthur shrugged uselessly.

"I just remember being underground. I started digging upward until I made it up, and there it was - a gigantic green statue!" Arthur told him. "People were so unhelpful! They thought it was a joke!" Merlin could imagine it: a boy crawling out of the ground, asking for his servants to beckon him home.

"They took away my sword," Arthur growled. "Morgana is still alive, yes? We must get my sword back and find her. We have to-"

"Arthur," Merlin snapped, "She's gone. I mean, yes, she never_ really_ dies because she's a high priestess, but nothing is the same Arthur. Everything is different."

"That can't be right," Arthur argued, but Merlin nodded.

"I guess she could be here," Merlin said as he looked out his grey, dirty window, "I found most of our people have been reincarnated. You know, rebirthed after they die into a new body." Arthur shot him a queer look but Merlin continued.

"Most of them I'd lost over time though," Merlin said, "I only see a couple a life time. I'm just lucky enough that I haven't fully died yet. Trust me, getting youth charms isn't cheap."

"So where are they then?" Arthur demanded. "I need to see-"

"They won't be the same. Some have had kids, married to different people, different careers," Merlin said quickly, "_Everybody_ has moved on, Arthur. If they hadn't, do you think I'd be here?" Arthur stumbled away at first, gripping onto the edge of the sofa without fully realizing what he was gripping onto. He closed his eyes tightly, his fingers shaking against the soft fabric.

"And him..." Arthur muttered cruelly, "Everybody is gone, except for him." Merlin winced at the betrayal layering in Arthur's voice.

"Sometimes you have to forgive-"

"Forgive!" Arthur spat. "He destroyed my kingdom, Merlin!" Merlin frowned.

"Yes, but it's different now, alright?" Merlin argued. "You have to trust me." But at that moment, it was the last thing Arthur would do.

"When did you change, Merlin? When?" Merlin sighed in reply, letting himself fall into the couch.

"He was a wizard, Arthur," Merlin said, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see Arthur's look of betrayal, "He always was. I thought he was trying to hurt you, and while trying to prevent that I managed to cause your death. Your death is _my _fault, alright? He wasn't himself when he killed you. He had gone mad after I didn't let him leave with that girl." He heard Arthur's mouth open, but then the door slammed open and Merlin jumped to his feet. Quickly, as he saw Arthur's face start to boil in hatred, he stepped in front of him.

"Oh, Mordred, I thought you were-"

"Oh, shut it, Merlin!" Mordred barked, causing Merlin to flinch back. Mordred rarely yelled that loud.

"How dare you think you have the right to silence Merlin! That's my job!" Arthur shouted from behind him. He was about to step forward, but because Arthur was still weak from whatever death he had overcome, Merlin was able to shove him back.

"Well," Mordred said softly after a moment, blinking, "Quite the younger brother you got."

Merlin had never seen Mordred dismiss someone who, he believed, was mentally ill, but when Mordred looked at Arthur he merely shot him a look of mild interest than turned back towards Merlin.

"I don't know who he is," Mordred said coolly, "Or why you suddenly have an interest in paranoid schizophrenics, but you better start explaining, Merlin." Merlin took a deep breath.

"He is my younger brother," Merlin said, and though Mordred knew he was lying, there was no point telling the truth. He wouldn't believe him anyways.

Mordred shrugged his coat off, shaking his head.

"And you think he's really better here?" Mordred questioned. Merlin looked at Arthur half-heartedly, for the first time considering the question seriously. Was Arthur better in a mental hospital? Could he adapt to the social norms? 

"He's not as bad as you think, Mordred," Merlin promised, "He has...episodes, that's all. He doesn't even need medication, I promise." Mordred stepped closer, staring at Arthur seriously.

"Wait, Mordred-" But then Mordred stepped behind Merlin and stuck out his hand towards Arthur. Mordred gave him the warm smile that Merlin recognized, his anger vanishing.

"Mordred Hepburn," Mordred said. At first Arthur hesitated, but then he saw the serious look on Merlin's face.

"Arthur," Arthur said through his clenched teeth, shaking his arm tightly, "Arthur Pendragon." And despite the fact that Arthur had taken his forearm rather than his hand, and probably gripped it abnormally tight, Mordred didn't give him a weird look. Because, after all, Mordred liked weird.

"I hope this doesn't mean we can't party tonight," Mordred said, almost an hour after Mordred had opened up a couple of cokes and they all seated at the half-broken kitchen table. During Arthur's first sip, which Merlin had watched worriedly, he had coughed up the drink so harshly it splattered all over the table. Mordred chuckled as Arthur barked for Merlin to get him a towel, as Merlin did.

"Party?" Arthur asked, his voice still cold as he addressed Mordred. "Like, a dinner?" Mordred's eyes flickered in amusement.

"I guess," he chuckled, "If you count beers and peanuts dinner. It's at an old bar, kind of run down to be honest, but I told my girl I'd check it out."

"Your _girl_?" Merlin mimicked immediately. "What do you mean a girl? Since when do you have a girl?" He showed a small smile, flicking the coke can continuously.

"Since you bailed on me last night and lost our bet," Mordred told him, "After you refused to ask any girls and left, I decided to ask one last girl to dance. I mean, she isn't my girl yet, but she will be." There was the way Mordred said it - as if it was more of a hunting game than a true romance. But Mordred was a charmer, despite everything, and it was always difficult to go to the bars with him. While Merlin just wanted to sit down with a beer, Mordred normally had three girls around him and four shots of tequila.

"I don't think we'll-"

"Of course we'll go, Merlin," Arthur said snappily. Merlin's eyes flickered at him, and saw the twirling look in his eyes. Arthur thought it was a game.

"Arthur, it really isn't your thing," Merlin told him quickly, "I doubt you-"

"Here's what I'm going to do," Arthur said as he stood up from his chair, "I'm going to go to my room, and as I'm getting ready for a bath, how about you do something useful and run it for me, alright Merlin?" Merlin looked at Mordred, who seemed clearly humored by Arthur's tone. Arthur didn't wait for Merlin's permission, he simply walked away from the kitchen, slamming the nearest bedroom shut.

"Did your little brother just take your room?" Mordred snickered. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Shut up."

"These aren't clothes! Get me some _real _clothes!" Merlin was in his room, with nearly all of his clothes spewed onto the floor, and a naked boy running around the room frantically, barking about clothing.

"It's what we wear," Merlin told him again, "It's a totally different era, Arthur!" Arthur spun towards him.  
"Did you just snap at me?" Arthur growled. Merlin swallowed.

"No, I just-"

"No, _sire_." Merlin's eyes narrowed coolly.

"If you can't find anything to wear," Merlin said, clipping each word carefully, "Maybe you shouldn't go at all." Arthur's eyebrows furrowed down.

"What are you talking about? We have to go. _Mordred _invited us." Merlin grew closer to him.

"Mordred was being nice," Merlin told him, "He doesn't care."

"Sure he does," Arthur answered coolly, "And we mustn't deny the invitation." There was something beyond his words. As if it was more of a going in spite, rather than wanting to go.

"You don't seem in the right state," Merlin said carefully, "I don't think being around Mordred will end well."

"I didn't ask for your opinion on my mind set!"

"Look, I just don't think you're ready to-"

"I like this," Arthur said, as he held up a shirt, "I think I'll go in this." Merlin snickered.

"You wanna wear that?" Merlin said.

"Isn't that what I just said Merlin?" Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Two hours later, after Arthur was dressed and ready, and Merlin had tried explaining as much as he could about the new world (which Arthur had taken abnormally well), Merlin was still wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his dark jeans.

"Merlin, stop it," Arthur demanded as he confusingly followed the range of people on the streets. "I am the King of Camelot and you don't think I can't handle a little electronicky?"

"Electricity," Merlin corrected as he redirected Arthur onto a different street, "Eh-lec-tricity." But Arthur shrugged him off.

"Yeah, well," Arthur said, "In my era, we didn't need al-ect-ity to get around in this world." But Merlin saw how Arthur's eyes occasionally got lost into street, staring at the bright "Open" signs, the loud roars of engines, the sharp business men with iPhones to their ears. Though Merlin was supposed to be used to it, it still overwhelmed him at times. How in the world was Arthur keeping his composure?

"Yeah, well," Merlin growled, "People here do so get used to it." Arthur shot him a sharp look.

"Get used to it?" Arthur asked. "Merlin, I am already used to it!" But Merlin merely sighed. Abruptly he stopped at an old bar, the windows dark and shaded, with music so loud he could hear it from outside.

"Is this where the bar is?" Arthur asked, blinking. "Don't you think it's a little...barbaric?" Merlin smirked.

"We could always go back," Merlin offered, a burst of optimism exploding in his stomach, "You know, back at the apartment. Away from all the electricity and overwhelming things." As Arthur opened the door, he scowled.

"No," he said, "We must find Mordred, remember?" Merlin followed Arthur into the dark, smoky bar, shoving numerous people in order to reach Arthur. One man, much larger than Arthur, got shoved towards a counter. Arthur not acknowledging him, the man shuffled back, clenching his fists as if ready for a fight. Before Arthur even noticed, Merlin rushed to apologize.

"Calm down," Merlin panted as he finally caught hold of the king, "You can't act like this-"

"I want some mead!" Arthur shouted at the bartender as he sat down on a stool. Hurriedly, Merlin followed him. The bartender glanced back, half-annoyed.

"You mean, beer?" the bartender asked slowly. Arthur nodded, smiling.

"Er," Arthur said, "Sure."

"And could I have one as well, please?" Merlin asked. The bartender nodded, pushing two overflowing jugs of beer. As it slid across the counter, a splatter hit Arthur's shirt. Arthur gasped, out raged.

"Excuse me!" Arthur said, as the bartender turned to tend towards a few other girls. "You just splattered me with your mead. Do you have any understanding of who I am?" The bartender, along with the people around them, turned their attention towards him.

"Sorry," the bartender said, though not sounding sorry at all, "There are napkins in front of you." The bartender snickered at Arthur as he nodded at the tray of napkins. Arthur's face flushed to a purple. An anxious wave rushed over Merlin.

"I am Arthur Pen-"

"Arthur!" A voice interrupted. Both Arthur and Merlin swung their heads back. Behind them, Mordred lingered over them. Despite the fact that he was a moderately large guy, he was swinging slightly. A happiness that Merlin had only started to discover in Mordred in the last couple generations, showed in his eyes. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were gleaming in joy. Merlin glanced at Arthur, and Arthur had noticed it as well. As Arthur evaluated him, his mouth opened just a bit, as if caught by Mordred's happiness. Arthur, Merlin knew, had always believed that Mordred was just a serious guy. It wasn't until now that they both realized that Mordred just didn't know what happiness was in that lifetime.

"Yeah," Arthur muttered dryly, "Hello." Merlin reached for the plastic tray of peanuts in front of them, and popped one into his mouth.

"So where's this girl?" Merlin asked curiously. "She better be here somewhere." Mordred smirked.

"Don't you hear the beautiful voice?" Mordred asked, sighing in bliss. "She's the one performing!" Merlin and Arthur craned their heads over the many dancing people, and when Merlin saw her he felt like he couldn't breathe.

She was gorgeous of course. She held a dark skin tone that glistened under the multi-colored lights, with dark eyes that seemed to twinkle as they brushed along the crowd. Her hair, dark and curly, was wound up in an elegant knot at the top of her head. She was in a short, red cocktail dress that emphasized her curves.

"Guinevere," he heard Arthur say beside him.


End file.
